The Colour Green
by Sapsorrow86
Summary: Set between Withdrawal and Indulgence. Zelena Green was once the invisible assistant of Nicholas Gold, hopelessly in love with her boss. Taking a leap of faith she quits and goes to Europe, determined to reinvent herself into the sort of person Gold would notice and want. She is convinced she's his perfect match and nothing could ever persuade her otherwise. Well, almost nothing.


It had been the best year of her life. That assistant job had been the first thing that had ever made her feel special, worthy somehow. She'd maxed out her new credit cards to pay for a wardrobe she couldn't afford but it had all been worth it. Assistant to a CEO... so glamorous in the eyes of her old self. So important. Surely she must have been chosen amongst dozens of women, probably more. And for once, for the first time, she'd been picked first. She'd been singled out.

She remembered Imp Inc. vaguely, most of her recollections centring around her boss. Nicholas Robert Gold... she could remember vividly meeting him, a slight man exuding power out of every pore, aloof and mysterious. A complex, intriguing man, with an accent to die for and a way about him that guaranteed he got whatever he wanted. The attraction had been immediate. She'd been half in love with him since the moment he'd acknowledged her existence, giving her a cursory glance and barking his coffee order at her. At first she'd found his commanding presence incredibly arousing, but the more she'd worked with him the more she'd been privy to his other side, the mellifluous dealmaker, subtle, cunning and even charming, ready to manipulate every situation in his favour.

It had been thrilling, having such a powerful man depend on her for certain things like his coffee or his appointments. It had taken a while to prove to him that she was up to the task, that she wasn't going to cower or quit no matter how hard a taskmaster he was. After that, however, he'd seen fit to trust her with more and more important stuff, letting her learn from him all she could. And she had. She had watched him like a hawk, spending countless unpaid extra hours keeping him company while he stayed late at his office, always ready in her desk, right near his door, to do whatever he required. She'd taken it upon herself to get to know the man behind the expensive suits and the sneer and some not-so-legal digging and subtle manipulation had allowed her to uncover some of his past, which included a dead-beat dad who'd ran out on him as soon as he'd been able to and some shady years in Glasgow, a failed marriage and another number of sins. She'd felt closer to him after having found that out, knowing in her bones that very few people knew him like she did.

Everything had been going great, but over time she'd begun to realize that he barely noticed her. She knew everything about him, about how he liked his coffee and the type of socks he liked to wear to what sort of painkiller he took for his leg and the way his both would pitch low when he was particularly angry but he didn't register her at all. Knew her name but had seemed quite disinterested when she'd attempted to tell him about her own unwanted childhood so he'd see how similar they were, kindred spirits.

_Soulmates._

Though she'd known almost from the start that there was the potential for something great between them, something other people would be envious of, he hadn't been able to see it too. And why would he? To him she'd been his assistant, a slip of a girl who was no one and was going nowhere. He'd had time for only important women, women like Regina Mills, fresh new face at the SEC, who'd had the power to command his attention, however unwilling.

He barely noticed whenever Zelena did something right, but he always paid close attention when Regina Mills stopped by. It was a hard true to swallow, but she finally faced up to it. Staying by Gold's side would not give her what she wanted: his respect and attention. She'd have to prove herself, to triumph, to turn herself into his equal in every way.

The first step had been the hardest: quitting. She'd held onto the hope that Gold might realize what a treasure she was at the last second and demand to have her back but that hadn't happened. It had been for the best, in retrospective. She had needed to go, to grow. She'd packed up her things, sold whatever would get her money, and gone to France, thinking it was the perfect place to reinvent herself. She'd managed to cajole an old family friend, dear old Oscar Walsh, always eager to help the daughter of two dear friends he barely remembered, into letting her intern for his company, OZ Enterprises, specializing in green tech and construction of environment-friendly buildings. She'd kept her eyes and ears opened, learned the hard way the value of patience and, in a matter of years, she'd been able to wriggle her way to the top. It hadn't been easy, for sure, but she'd been more than a bit motivated. People with power, with influence and wealth, were respected. Were wanted.

In the end she'd all but taken over the company, keeping gullible little Walsh as a useful figurehead. No matter how much power she amassed, and how well she learned to play the game, some people didn't seem to warm up to her. Walsh, on the other hand, was respected and well-liked by all and Zelena found it that for once she didn't care. She had used it to her advantage, keeping Walsh as a figurehead due to his likeability and popularity. It had taken her a while to ensure her complete control of the company, appointing people in key positions, making sure they all knew they owed their good fortune to her. They became her loyal puppets, her pet monkeys, there to do her bidding.

It was only when she was sure she had things under control that she brought up a plan for expansion overseas. It took some convincing to get the shareholders behind the idea of opening a branch in New York City to pave the way for the company to enter the competitive US market. Though thrilled to be home, and anxious to reconnect with Nick, she'd made sure to establish her company as a top competitor in the environment business. "Oz, the way to go green" had been plastered all over magazines and billboards, printed in the business cards she'd carefully handed out. Green buildings were starting to become a hot commodity but the market remained vastly unexploited, with only a few companies to fully cater to the increasing demand. It had positioned her on the fast track to success, something that didn't garner her much affection amongst the business crowd but got her "in" nevertheless. Though her "new" status and her European origins made her a bit of an undesirable- though she suspected it was more envy than anything else- money got her far enough, especially in certain circles.

Though it had taken a lot of said money to be welcomed into the "Open Manhattan" foundation, a NPO founded by some of the most impressive Manhattan CEO's to aid Manhattan-based charities and causes. It was a great way to write off taxes and get some good publicity while doing it, and over the years being a contributor of the foundation had become a status symbol. Zelena, however, took none of that into account. The only things she cared about were that Imp, Inc. was one of the main businesses that donated to the foundation and that, once a year, the contributing CEOs met to decide which cause deserved their attention and how much each business would have to contribute in order to sponsor it.

It hadn't been easy to weasel her way into the foundation but she'd managed, using the blunt force of her bank account to do so. On the day scheduled for the meeting she'd dressed with care, her classy black business attire spiced up by a rather generous neckline that put her assets on display the way she wanted them. She curled her hair carefully, teasing it into a stylish mane, and applied make-up to highlight her eyes, which were her best feature. Anticipation coiled deep in her belly, making her jittery and anxious. It had taken years but she'd finally transformed herself into the sort of woman that took things instead of them being taken from her. A woman worthy of respect, of... envy.

The kind of woman that was more than a match for Nicholas Gold.

She grabbed her emerald pendant, fastening it around her neck and admiring the way it drew attention where she wanted it. Her mind drifted back to the moment where she had acquired it, easily the most expensive item in her jewellery collection. It had been given to her in Paris by Galla Nord, owner of a couture label and the woman Zelena had modelled herself after. Sophisticated, with impeccable manners and a way to carry herself, to navigate the slippery rooms reserved mostly for businessmen even nowadays. Galla, whose parents had actually named her that, had been her mentor and her only actual friend in Paris, taking pity on the uncultured little bumpkin from the States and carefully cajoling her into a more polished persona. For the first year she'd been under Galla's wing, learning everything she could from her. After that dear little Galla has become, sadly, expendable. She had thought about keeping her around despite that, a sort of confidante with which to share some of her plans. In the end, however, Galla had started replacing her rather obviously with a younger, even more wide-eyed version of herself, some Kansas nobody with an awful accent. She'd tried to deny it, of course, but Zelena had refused to believe her and had made her pay for her mistake. Galla had become her first successful take down and the blonde had only survived by crawling back to her parents and their old money.

She arrived in time to the arranged meeting place, some place designed for events on the top three floors of a tall, sleek building, booked entirely for their use, of course. She breathed it all in for a moment, remembering everything that had led up to this day. She had worked so hard, for such a long time, to make herself into a new person. And it was all finally about to pay off.

The meeting room was spacious, with glass walls overlooking the towering skyscrapers of the NYC financial district as well as the nearby East River. A glance around told her she was acquainted with most of the people in there, impeccably-dressed CEOs and CFOs mingling, some with their assistance and some alone. It was a social occasion, meant to carefully probe competitors and possible allies alike. Amongst the crème of the crop there was no networking. After all, they all knew each other.

She had taken the trouble to make herself known to these people through the grapevine that dominated Manhattan and she was pleased to notice when she introduced herself to see that many of the present were aware of who she was and of Oz Enterprises and were suitably impressed by both.

She didn't let her eyes stray to Nicholas Gold. It was important that he notice her first, not the other way around. Surreptitiously, however, she glanced at him from time to time, sitting on one of the leather chairs surrounding the round glass table in the centre of the room like he owned everything and everyone around him. He looked as impeccable as she remembered, perfectly-tailored suit hugging his lean frame, a pocket square and a colourful tie adding a touch to his otherwise sombre dark-grey three-piece. His hair was a bit greyer than she remembered, which only seemed to add to his appeal, and he was slightly more tanned, which also seemed to work in his favour. His right hand clasped the gold handle of his cane loosely, the milky-blue ring she remembered still glinting from his ring finger.

She felt a rush of arousal go up and down her body. She'd forgotten how the mere presence of him affected her and only her newly-acquired self-control kept her from doing something she'd regret later. Men like Nick enjoyed a chase. Being aloof would get her a lot further than showing interest.

She settled a few chairs away, wondering when the meeting would start. Finally a tall, blonde glamazon walked in, looking sleek in an Akris suit with a deep burgundy silk blouse and Givenchy shades perched on her perfectly-coifed hair. Behind her she spotted a short brunette, clad in a forgettable gossamer champagne pink blouse with cap sleeves tucked into a single pleat skirt that, to Zelena's surprise, she recognized as Cavalli, made of soft-looking virgin wool dyed a dark grey. For someone who was obviously an assistant she seemed to dress above her station. Probably screwing some higher-up at her company, which she'd come to regret later on when he inevitably dumped her for someone even younger with bigger breasts and far less ambition.

The blond glamazon, on the other hand, was someone important, she could tell. She felt a prickle of jealousy as Gold's eyes zeroed in on her the moment she entered the room, heels clicking harshly against the polished floor. But far from casting an appreciative gaze her former boss proceeded to glare at the newcomer with unabashed hatred. Some quick pondering allowed her to remember Mallory Evans Ficent, British owner of Uni Global and, the way she recalled it, always at odds with Nick. Clearly that relationship had deteriorated further over the years.

Good.

After everyone else in the room settled down, introducing themselves simply as a formality- Zelena couldn't help deflate a bit when her surname didn't seem to spark anything in her former boss's eyes- they got down to business. At first it was apparent people strove to maintain a fictitious air of equality amongst the present but, soon enough it became clear that there were some people whose opinions received much more attention. She was unsurprised, though thrilled, to notice that one of those people was Gold, who skilfully but determinately seemed to manage the flow and direction of the conversation, shooting down ideas and making sure the others present knew who was allowed to talk and who should just listen. Watching him in action was a thing of beauty, a master puppeteer putting on a spellbinding show with the artless ease of the consummate performer.

All his suggestions were welcomed with nary a protest from the rest of the businessmen, and all arguments in favour of opposing ideas were quickly shot down, few people putting up any form of resistance. She saw her opportunity, her way of making herself noticed and she took it eagerly. Taking care not to make it obvious, looking to appear smart and informed and not simply a mindless groupie, she began to pitch in the conversation to support Nick's ideas. It wasn't hard, after all Nicholas's ideas were good and his arguments carefully-constructed. By agreeing with him she'd put herself in his line of vision, show how like-minded they were, how compatible. Her carefully-crafted appearance and hard-learned allure would do the rest, she was sure. Enough men had fallen for such a scheme over the years.

She got a few glances her way, a faint glimmer of recognition or something like it at some point but Zelena was soon confronted with a rather unplanned obstacle in her path. It was the brunette assistant who was probably trying to sleep her way to the top. Though she should have known better than to participate she was an opinionated little thing, convinced apparently that it was her duty to contradict Gold every chance she got. He would invariably always pause to listen to her, an eyebrow raised in challenge and a smirk that, instead of patronizing, seemed more amused. Her obsessive study of Gold's minuscule expressions and mannerisms had made her one of the few people truly capable of reading him but years away from him had obviously dulled that particular talent, apparently.

What started like a mild nuisance for Zelena quickly devolved into a serious obstacle. Trying to get Gold's attention was proving to be impossible with that little upstart always ready with a counter-argument to Nick's solid ideas. Her boss, far from reining her in like she should, seemed to enjoy letting her assistant manipulate Nicholas so. Zelena frowned, mentally shaking her head. She should know better.

"I think the choice is clear. The transformation of unused open spaces in the city into community gardens and the like is very popular right now. Contributing to NGO's such as the New York Restoration Project would give us great publicity. On the other hand halfway houses are never a pretty topic of conversation. It's not an image we want to be associated with, clearly."

Zelena felt a familiar thrill run down her spine as she watched Gold dominate the conversation with the deceitfully soft burr of his. She swivelled in her chair, angling her body the least bit closer to him, smiling in approval.

"Mr Gold is right, of course. It's not only a worthy cause but also one that would garner us a lot of approval. Green is the way to go, definitely."

She smiled widely once more, trying not to make it obvious she was doing it mostly for Nick's benefit.

"I didn't know we were looking for a publicity stunt." The Australian drawl was giving Zelena a headache. "Rehabilitation is a worthy cause, more so because its lack of appeal means it's twice as hard for projects like halfway houses to get funds. Besides, if we're taking into account public opinion it wouldn't hurt for people to see some of the top businesses in the city giving the second chances instead of getting them for a change."

Her wit, if nothing else, got her a few laughs and some supporters. Soon people were knee-deep in a discussion concerning the pros and cons of both ideas presented. The brunette, thankfully, seemed to suddenly remember her place as a listener and not a participant, letting the other people in the room, the important people, hash things out. At some point someone remarked on the time and it was decided that a break would do everyone some good.

She tried not to let her enthusiasm show. This was an opportunity for her to get more of a personal interaction with Gold. Surely she'd caught his attention enough to make him curious about her. She quickly made her way to a nearby lavatory where she checked her make-up, adjusted the neckline of her dress and quickly ran a comb through her hair, teasing it further. With a last look in the mirror she went out into the hallway, retracing her steps to the meeting room. It took her a second to realize Gold was gone, vanished somehow in the few minutes she'd been away. She'd expected his limp to give her a bit of time to freshen up but it seemed she'd miscalculated.

She tried to look casual as she searched for him, rehearsing in her head what she'd say when they were finally alone. She'd subtly stroke his ego, commenting on what had happened at the meeting and how she thought he made some excellent points. After that he would surely recognize her voice, her eyes or something else. He'd be intrigued, captured by the mystery of a woman who seemed familiar but he couldn't remember ever meeting. She'd play coy, giving away little and leaving him wanting more. Today was only meant to lay the foundation, to light the spark. The rest could wait.

After having searched the entire floor she became uneasy. A quick look at the lobby, and a few questions to the security men at the entrance, let her know he hadn't left the building. It was only a stroke of luck that made her think of the rooftop. She recalled that, though not a regular smoker, Gold liked to smoke when particularly stressed. It was quite possible the little confrontation inside the meeting room had unsettled him a bit and, if that was the case, the better for her. She could play the comforting stranger, completely on his side, ready to reassure him. The view and the complete solitude would add to the atmosphere and make their encounter into something not easily forgettable.

She strove to calm down on the elevator ride, glad that the mild weather hadn't made it imperative that she bring her coat, lest she cover the assets she'd carefully and tastefully put on display. She was surprised to notice the elevator went all the way to the rooftop, opening on a small hall where there was a shiny steel door which, surprisingly, opened easily and noiselessly.

At first she took in the decor. Clearly the roof was meant to serve as a place to host lavish parties and get-togethers. There were couches and solid mahogany tables scattered around, along with some strategically-placed light fixtures and potted plants. The overall effect was modern and minimalist, the palette mostly off-white with touches of earthy terracotta and steel grey. It was a lovely place, her kind of place- sophisticated with an edge- but she could barely appreciate it. Her entire focus was on the two people on the roof, completely oblivious to her presence. At first she registered Nicholas Gold, easily recognizing the cut and fabric of his suit and his salt-and-pepper hair, long enough to accentuate his leonine appearance. He was lying on a table, hands gripping the edges tightly. His tie was on the floor, a hint of colour amongst the smooth limestone, and the first buttons of his crisp shirt were undone, showing the expanse of his throat and a hint of chest. That small glimpse of flesh- more than she'd ever seen before, even when she worked for him- captivated her. The muscles she could glimpse were lean but powerful, and she could see the faint trace of a faded scar peeking out just barely, a subtle, thrilling reminder of her former boss's tumultuous past.

When she finally managed to tear her eyes away from the tanned skin on display she registered the other person sitting astride Nick, her expensive Cavalli skirt rucked up around her hips and her hands splayed across Gold's shirt-covered stomach, French-tipped nails slightly sinking into the fabric, leaving, she imagined, half-moon dents across Nicholas's skin. The Australian chit was barefoot, her outrageous black heels carelessly tossed aside next to Gold's tie, her appearance otherwise pristine as she rode the man beneath her slowly and steadily. Though her movements where deceptively controlled there was a forcefulness lurking beneath, visible in the way Gold's body rocked lightly with each thrust.

There was no question as to who was in charge. The brunette slid one of her hands up Nicholas's chest, caressing the skin uncovered by the open shirt before loosely wrapping her hand around his throat. Beneath her Gold shuddered, fingers tightening around the edges of the table and a small, throaty sound escaping his lips. Everything in his posture spoke of surrender and submission, including the way he tilted his chin up slightly so the woman above him could grasp his throat easier. But above all it was the look in his eyes, so vulnerable and soft- weak- that unnerved her. The man beneath the impertinent Australian bitch was so unlike the Nicholas Gold she knew, who was always in control, with power cloaking him like an invisible armour.

It was a sick sort of fascination that rooted her to the ground. A few feet away Gold was making pitiful little noises, his fingernails clawing at the hard wood of the table, trying to anchor himself to it.

"Please, Belle, please..." He sounded close to crying, hoarse and desperate. Above him the brunette bit her lip and tilted her head to the side and stilling her movements completely.

"Please what? Use your words, Nick."

He grunted, one of his hands letting go of the edge of the table to smack hard against the wood, a clear gesture of frustration. The little chit- Belle, apparently- leaned forward, grasping a chunk of Nicholas's hair and pulling harshly in punishment. Zelena expected this to finally snap Gold out of whatever stupor he was in, to anger him and finally put an end to whatever it was she was watching but, far from it, Nick shuddered all over, moaning low in his throat and wiggling his hips, clearly itching to thrust up against her.

"Let me touch you. I've been such a good boy, please, I need... I need to touch you."

The woman's hands slid once more to the exposed skin of his collarbone, tracing idle patterns with her long nails.

"And where would you touch me, if you could?"

Her voice was soft but commanding. Everything about her was soft and pliant, gentle and kind, but there was determination behind it, a hint of steel beneath it all. It was an unassuming, subtle sort of power the one she exerted and Nick seemed to love submitting to it, letting go of control completely. Tentatively, almost shyly, he lifted his hands, wrapping them loosely around her waist.

"Is this okay?"

His voice was warbled, hopeful and hesitant at the same time, nothing like the soft, commanding croon Zelena had recalled vividly so many times at night while she touched herself. Belle, however, didn't seem to find it at all out of character, simply petting his hair and giving him a reassuring smile. Emboldened by the tacit permission Nick slid his hands down, ghosting over the grey virgin wool of the Cavalli skirt to slip beneath the hemline, seeking the warm skin beneath. Above him the brunette kept carding her fingers through his hair.

"What are you, Nick?"

Her voice was honey-sweet, her accent pronounced. He seemed not to hear her at first, entranced by whatever his fingers were doing under her skirt. Undaunted the brunette yanked on a lock of Gold's hair and thrust her hips harshly against his once, immediately gaining his attention. She repeated the question in the same sickly-sweet voice.

"Yours. I'm yours."

His tone was eager and slightly awed as he answered, as if he considered it some sort of miracle that the woman above him would deign lay claim on him.

"My lion."

There was tenderness in the pet name, for sure, but the possessive quality of it was impossible to ignore and it turned Zelena's stomach, especially when Nick's entire face seemed to lit up upon hearing it. Above him Belle started moving again, setting a brutal rhythm as she rode him, hands fisted on his shirt. It didn't take long for Nick to be squirming and gasping in response, hands leaving the woman's thighs to once more hold on for dear life to the table. It was painfully clear the moment he orgasmed, back arching and eyes slipping shut, pleasure written all over his face. It was just as Zelena has always imagined, raw and uninhibited, powerful.

A moment later, however, the look crumbled and Nick was scrambling from beneath the brunette, in a hurry to get up. Zelena's frayed nerves finally relaxed. Gold's eagerness to get off the table after sex clearly proved that whatever had happened had been nothing more than the scratching of an urge and, once he'd gotten what he wanted from the little slut he was desperate to leave her presence. It made sense for men such as Gold to get propositioned often by young, ambitious young things and even more natural for him to take advantage of it every once in a while. And Zelena wasn't interested in a quick, forgettable fuck in a rooftop, she was in for the long ride, the slow seduction. When she finally got him she wouldn't be tossed aside minutes later like a piece of trash.

A moment later, however, Gold was grasping at the woman's hips, dragging her to the edge of the table before awkwardly bending down. Far from being surprised the brunette leaned back, hooking her legs on Gold's shoulders and sighing in utter bliss as he flipped her skirt upwards, pushed aside her underwear and started eating her out with voracious enthusiasm. He focused all of his attention of the task, hardly paying attention to his bad ankle that, judging from his half-bent position must have been screaming in pain. One of his hands curled around her thigh, caressing the skin reverently as the other allowed him to brace himself on the table. Nothing seemed to exist for him outside of the brunette's pleasure, conveyed in the form of soft sighs and low, throaty moans. His fingers tightened around the girl's thigh, all barely-restrained power and nauseating eagerness and it didn't take long before the brunette toppled over the edge, telling him what a good boy he was as she rode her orgasm, skin breaking into goosebumps and toes curling.

It took a couple of seconds for Zelena to snap out of it and clumsily pull the door shut, stumbling towards the elevator in her haste to escape. It was clear now that the pathetic little Australian had fought with Gold in the meeting room to gain his attention, finding a way to lure him to the rooftop while she'd been in the bathroom and seducing him. No doubt she hoped for more designer clothing, maybe some jewellery or business contacts. The more she thought about it the angrier she got. Stupid tarts like that made women everywhere look bad and once she had Gold for her own she'd make sure women like her knew to stay away from him, to think twice before trying to steal what was hers.

She managed to compose herself somewhat on the elevator ride, making sure to appear calm and collected before going back to the meeting room. There were few people in there, most others having decided to step out for a coffee instead of remaining in the building. She noticed Mallory Ficent almost immediately, with her perfectly-coiffed hair and her impeccable outfit, dominating a conversation she was having with a couple of businessmen, blissfully unaware of what her trashy little assistant had been doing moments ago. That hardly seemed fair and so with all the finesse she could muster Zelena attempted to get Miss Ficent's attention. When the CEO finally glanced her way, looking at her as one would an annoying fly, the redhead put on an air of concern and asked if she could have a private word with her. To her delight the blonde responded just as she hoped, uninterestingly telling her that whatever she wanted to tell her she could do so in public, doubting she had to say would merit any privacy. With as much false helpfulness as she could possibly inject into her voice she told her of wanting to step out into the terrace for some air and coming across her assistant behaving in a lewd, inappropriate manner with the CEO of Imp, Inc. She made sure to phrase it in a way that would subtly put the weight of the blame on Belle's shoulders, saying something about "impressionable young girls" and the "dangers of mindless ambition" and how indiscretions such as those could sully the reputation of entire companies if one was not careful enough.

The fury in Mallory Ficent's face was delicious enough to almost make her drop her charade and smile. When Gold and the little tramp entered the meeting room the blonde looked ready to murder and for a second or two Zelena was positive Ficent would fire her assistant on the spot, right in front of some of the biggest names in business.

"Gold, you fucking son of a bitch!" The British glamazon seemed ready to tear Nicholas's eyes out, completely disregarding the petite Australian beside him. In angry, clipped tones she started to rant about contracts, clauses and boundaries, leaning across the table that separated her from the Scotsman.

"We agreed weeks ago that she was to be here on Uni Global business and therefore completely out of reach. This is clearly a breach of contract and you know it! What the fuck is wrong with you?"

"Oh, God, not the contract again."

The brunette glared at her boss, arms crossed and looking offended. Gold did too, but for entirely different reasons. It all quickly devolved into a rather undignified screaming match, accents getting thicker as terms like "contractual obligations" and "force majeure" were tossed around. No one in the room seemed the least bit surprised, put off or otherwise moved by the spectacle, acting as if it was a common occurrence. The only one expressing any sort of emotion was the assistant, Belle, who looked none-too-happy.

"This was premeditated, you randy little bastard! But it's clearly stipulated in section ten, part-"

"Oh, for fucks's sake, fuck the damn contract, Mal! One day I'm gonna fucking marry Belle and then you're gonna have to shove that contract so up your arse it'll-"

He seemed to register his words a little too late, deflating completely as his eyes widened and his mouth shut, the realization of what he'd just said hitting him like a ton of bricks. The Australian beside him went from irate to shocked in a second.

"This... This better not be the way in which you ask me. We've been dating for two years, I think I'd deserve something better."

Everyone in the room seemed to lean forward at once, eager to see how this scene would play out. Gold shook his head vehemently, his gaze going soft as he gazed at Belle. Zelena felt the unpleasant urge to gag.

"You deserve the world. And one day I'll be ready to give it to you, if you'll take it."

Mallory Ficent seemed to deflate upon hearing those words, muttering about "smooth-talking lucky bastards" before announcing to the entire room she was going for a smoke and that the sappiness better be over when she returned. She grabbed her assistant on her way out, telling Nick she expected him to "cool off" while they were away. She glanced behind one last time, watching as the redhead with the ample cleavage who had ratted the lovebirds out dropped into a chair, looking to be in the beginning stages of a heart attack. She said nothing as Belle followed her meekly to a nearby balcony. She took her time lighting a cigarette and taking a long, satisfying drag before speaking.

"You knew she was watching. Hell, after bending over backwards to get Nick's attention all morning you knew she'd try to find him alone and in the process she'd stumble across the both of you."

Belle looked at her boss, wrinkling her nose in disgust.

"That's a filthy habit."

Mallory's lips spread in a wicked smile, taking another puff to make a point.

"You possessive little minx. I'm impressed."

The Australian looked away, the very picture of demureness and decorum as she lowered her eyes and bit her lip. Involuntarily a smirk tugged at the edge of her mouth.

"Don't tell Nick. He would never let me live it down."


End file.
